


Edge of the Abyss

by Morgan (morgan32)



Series: End of the World [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2009-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion story to <em>End of the World</em>: While Daniel is missing, Jack has problems of his own on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge of the Abyss

When Charlie died, I thought I’d never touch a gun again.

Here I am, though, back in uniform again. Ready to go out there, again. Ready to kill...or to die for the people of this planet. I’ve spent my life doing this, one way or the other.

This mission is different, and every man in this room knows it.

Hammond is giving his speech about this being a volunteer job. Who does he think he’d kidding? There’s not a man here who doesn’t have a personal reason to want to kick some Goa’uld butt today. The program, in its present form, has been live only a few weeks, but in that time we’ve managed to piss them off pretty good.

I meet Ferretti’s eyes across the embarkation room. He looks away, but I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Like me, he won’t look up at that ramp until it’s time to go. Our feelings are more similar than you think, Ferretti.

There are too many ghosts in this room already. The men who died on our first trip through the Gate. The men who died when Apophis paid us a visit. Men who have been killed since. Daniel Jackson. I still expect to see Daniel beside me when I suit up. How did the geek get so under my skin? Where the hell is he now? Is he even alive?

Yet, of all the ghosts in here, there’s only one who really haunts me. Only one.

Kawalsky.

***

_I never knew you had a son._

When he said that, it stung. The accusation in those words cut kinda deep. It was a mark of how much we’d grown apart. Ten years is a lot.

There was a time we were inseparable. We made one hell of a team, didn’t we, Charlie? Wild as hell: we were young. We thought we were invincible. Immortal. And the sex was stunning, too.

We met when we were both transferred into Special Ops. By the end of our first mission together, we were best friends. By the second, I was so crazy in love I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I didn’t, of course. I was too dumb to see he felt the same way, too busy feeling guilty for what I wanted.  I had a wife back home, for crying out loud!. I never thought I had a chance with him. Until the night he deliberately got me drunk and calmly let me know he didn’t expect to sleep alone that night. Oh, boy. I’ve never been so scared. You can’t exactly train for a night like that. Or for the two years that followed. The best two years of my life.

I did feel guilty. Sara didn’t have a clue, of course, but our marriage hadn’t been in great shape anyhow. It wasn’t her fault: we married too young. She just wasn’t cut out to be a military wife. Did I love her? Of course I did! I married her for love. We were great together. But she wasn’t...him.

As team-mates, we spent most of our days together: we _had _to trust each other completely. When your lives depend on each other that way, the bonds you form are stronger than a regular friendship. And we were lovers almost from the beginning. It _could _have been a disaster. If either of us been less dedicated to the job, our relationship might have been dangerous and not just to ourselves. But we both put the job first, always. That first night we were together we discussed that and laid the groundrules. We both accepted that our careers came first, and could separate us at any time. Even so, I’ve never been closer to anyone than I was to Charlie.

What do you mean, were we sleeping together? The sex was fucking fantastic, but no, we never _slept_ together. Not the whole night. We were in the Air Force, remember: if the fact that we were screwing each other got out we’d have been in deep shit. We had moments: a quick hand-job in the showers when it was safe, an evening together, rare opportunities for more, but never the whole night. Not _that_ way. Too risky.

I couldn’t hide the guilt I felt from Kawalsky. I was betraying Sara. He was okay about it. Hell, he must have known that when I went home on leave, I slept with my wife. It was never an issue for him. I think he somehow saw _us_ as the normal way of things.

Then again...I never, not even once, saw him with a girl on his arm.

After two years, I had more or less decided the guilt wasn’t worth it. I knew _something_ had to change. Looking back today, that something should have been obvious. At the time, though, I just couldn’t see a way out.

I had a long weekend of leave coming up, and the day before I was due to leave our CO called me into his office. As always right before seeing Sara, my mind was on my way-too-complicated love life, and for a second I was afraid of what I was going to hear. Instead of being in trouble, though, I was offered the opportunity of a lifetime.

A new assignment, a built-in promotion: this could make my career. The catch was I’d have to leave the country. I would be gone a long time, ten months at least.

It took me less than a second to accept.

My CO told me to back off and think about it. I was a married man, he reminded me: perhaps I should discuss this with my wife. When he said that, I realised for the first time it was an opportunity of a different kind. A lot of things became clear to me then. I asked if the rest of my team was being reassigned as well. It was none of my goddamned business, and the Colonel had every right to tell me so. Instead he told me who else would be going with me...if I accepted the commission.

An hour later I was sitting on a bench under a tree with Kawalsky: one place we could talk privately. “I’m going to tell her,” I announced, interrupting him. Kawalsky had been talking for the past five minutes; I hadn’t heard a word.

He shut up, fast. “Tell...?”

“Sara. When I see her this weekend I’m going to tell her I’m leaving.” I swivelled on the bench to face him. “It’s time, Kawalsky. I can’t keep lying to her, and she...she deserves a chance to find someone else.” Something bitter rose in my throat as I said those words. The thought of my wife with another man...I was being a hypocrite. What had I been doing to her for the past two years?

Kawalsky nodded slowly. “This has been coming for a while, hasn’t it?”

“You know it. Better now...than later. Clean break.”

“Yeah.” A smile spread across his face. “Sounds like the right thing to do. If you’re sure.”

I wanted to touch him. I needed to let him know how much this was for him, not just my own conscience. I let my eyes do it instead, looking at him, at all the places I wanted to touch. “I’m sure. It’s gonna hurt, but, I’ve made my choice.” And in a few days, we would be out of here, out of the country. Maybe, just maybe, we could start talking about the future. Maybe revise some of those groundrules.

I couldn’t tell Kawalsky what I was thinking, not then. Later...

***

I took the bus home. When I left the base, I felt lighter of heart than I had for a long time. I was sure I had made the right decision. Taking the bus was a mistake, though. I had too much time on the journey. I thought about what I had to say to Sara. How would she react? Should I tell her the truth? Would that help, or just hurt her more? If I had made the effort to the husband Sara deserved, I would have known the answer to that.

When I reached the house, Sara was in the front garden, kneeling in the flower bed in torn clothing, pruning the rosebushes. She looked up from the roses as I walked up the path. The moment she saw me she dropped everything and came toward me at a run. I let my bag fall to the ground and caught her as she reached me.

We kissed. I tried to make it quick but she wouldn’t allow it. After a few moments, I pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining, Sara, but what’s with the welcome?”

I guess I _was_ complaining. She was making this harder for me. Lots harder. It was unusual for her to greet me that way, though.

Sara was happy, her eyes shining as she smiled at me. “I have some news.”

I nodded. “So have I.” I picked up my bag again. “Let’s talk inside.” It would be better, I decided, to get this over with quickly. Sara pulled my arm around her shoulders as we walked.

“So, what’s your news?” Sara asked me as we sat down together.

I lost my nerve. “You first,” I said. I couldn’t tell her this way, not when she was so happy.

“Okay,” she agreed, then fell silent.

So she was as nervous as I. “Sara? Good news or bad?” I prompted. _Her_ nerves I could deal with...anything to put off the inevitable a little longer.

“Good, I hope.” She took a deep breath. “Jack, I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

God help me, the first thought that went through my mind was, _Is it mine?_ That was my own guilt talking: I knew Sara better than that. Thankfully, the thought didn’t reach my mouth. Nothing did. I couldn’t think of a damned thing to say.

“Well, say something, Jack. Please tell me you’re happy.”

I nodded, somehow finding the words she needed to hear. “It’s wonderful news, love,”

She looked hurt. “Try it again. A little emotion won’t kill you.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sara. It _is_ wonderful news. I need some time to get used to the idea, that’s all. This...changes things.”

“It’s supposed to,” she snapped.

Oh, I was really screwing this up! I moved closer and held her. “It’s just unexpected, Sara. Give me a little time.”

Time. Time enough to turn back the clock was what I needed, but no one could give me that. I spent an hour unpacking my bag, showering, taking far longer than I needed over the simple tasks. When I ran out of excuses to stay away, I walked into the kitchen where Sara was just beginning to cook. She was chopping vegetables, the knife in her hand hitting the board with a regular thump. She wasn’t happy with me - no surprise there.

Risking the knife, I put my arms around her waist from behind. “Need some help?”

“From you, Jack?”

I sighed. I made a mess of dinner once and she was convinced if she let me try again I’d burn down the house or something. It’s completely unfair: I’m not a bad cook, given the chance. “I know - get out of your kitchen.” My first peace offering declined, I tried plan B. “Would you like me to go out and get some wine?”

“I shouldn’t drink,” she said, still chopping carrots. “You know - in my condition.”

I guess I deserved the cold shoulder. I didn’t have to like it. One last try... “Champagne, then?”

I felt her relax in my arms. “Sounds good,” she said finally.

If you’re thinking I’m a damned hypocrite, you’ve got it dead wrong. This time. If I hadn’t still loved Sara, I would have left her as I’d planned. My decision to leave wasn’t a straight choice between lovers, and it wasn’t entirely selfish. I had hoped to make a clean break of it before something like this happened. Before my leaving really did ruin her life.

Sara’s news changed all that. Had I walked out on her then, I _would_ have ruined her life. And the life of our son. Ultimately, the choice wasn’t hard. I loved Kawalsky. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the better choice for me; what we had together was something Sara couldn’t give me. Something I knew I would miss. But he didn’t _need_ me. Sara did, more than ever. I had never stopped loving her, I only...let myself forget it.

I didn’t just buy champagne. I bought an armful of flowers and returned to the house with my mind made up.

***

Looking back, I can’t regret my decision. Becoming a father changed everything for me. Finally, I could understand what Sara what worried about every time we said goodbye. I even shared those fears, a little. My promises to come home were sincere at last: I had something to come home for. My son...my family. Our son restored something in our marriage that had been missing. I guess I fell in love with her all over again.

It’s amazing how fast I grew up that year. I’d joined the Air Force because it seemed a cooler career choice than cop, and I never had the talent for professional hockey. The so-called act of heroism that got me re-assed to Special Forces wasn’t bravery: I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and when the dust settled I managed to talk fast enough to make it sound like I’d kept a level head under fire. Not exactly officer material.

I guess in my mind Kawalsky became part of my reckless youth. I managed to convince myself it had been just a fling once we were parted. Kawalsky took the reassignment I had turned down, and we lost touch. Neither of us was much for writing letters, and, let’s be honest here: I didn’t really want to maintain the friendship. It was a bad idea, once I’d resolved to make my marriage work.

I shouldn’t have done that to him. God! The man was my best friend! He would have understood, if I’d had the guts to tell him the truth. I should have made the effort.

For ten years, I rarely even thought about him. It took some effort at first: there was always something to remind me...especially when Sara wanted to name our son Charlie. It wasn’t for him: Charlie was her brother’s name. I didn’t have the heart to refuse her anything that day.

Not long after the baby was born, I was reassigned again. Iraq. Living in the past was a luxury I couldn’t afford in those days. We might have won the war, but my own personal score wasn’t so hot.

Then, after our son died and General West recalled me to duty, I saw _Major Charles Kawalsky_ at the top of West’s list of prospects for my team. It all came flooding back. But at that time I was far too wrapped up in myself to think about the past. I was preparing for a suicide mission. I considered striking Kawalsky’s name off the list, but in the end let it go. I didn’t find it important. Frankly, I didn’t find anything much important then.

In the few days we were off-world on that mission, everything changed for me again.

It was just _one_ mission, and those of us who returned, returned with a very strong recommendation that it be the last. It wasn’t until over a year later, when Kawalsky and I ended up in the same holding cell after the first attack by Apophis, that I began to really regret what I’d lost in him. I’d lost my son, and my wife. I’d been living alone for a year. Time enough to learn to appreciate friendship.

It was typical of Kawalsky that the years apart made no difference to him. As soon as I told him to lose the salute, he was right there, ready to pick up where we’d left off...if I wanted it. It was as if it had been ten days, not ten years. He shook my hand, and held it just an instant longer than necessary. The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He’s the only man I know who can make a handshake sexier than a kiss.

_I never knew you had a son._

I remember he said those words with a smile. Maybe I imagined the hurt that smile concealed, the moment he realised how big a chunk of my life I’d withheld from him. Then again...if I _did_ imagine that, maybe I also imagined what happened after...

I swallowed, hearing my betrayal again in those words. I met his eyes, hoping he would understand. I couldn’t say it directly: there was bound to be a microphone in the cell.

“He...died,” I confessed. Another, more recent guilt there. “Just before the Abydos mission.”

Kawalsky’s smile vanished. He frowned, then looked up at me. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Jack. I had no idea.” His eyes asked a question.

I nodded. I was about to say more, but we were interrupted by Hammond.

***

Daniel Jackson came through for us again. Sending a reply to my “message” in record time, he convinced a General he didn’t even know existed that another mission through the Stargate was viable. I was relieved. More than relieved, considering the alternative.

I invited Kawalsky to join me for a couple of beers. He suggested bringing Ferretti along - just so he could laugh at my attempt to suggest otherwise. I’d forgotten his sense of humour.

We made a fairly determined assault on my stash of beer. We talked about the mission I would be leading the next day, and what we might find on the other side of the Gate. There were a lot of unknowns, and I was more concerned than I wanted to admit by the bodies already in the SGC morgue, but we were both looking forward to it, as well. Like a trip home.

We had emptied my refrigerator of beer. I restocked it, but it was going to be a while before the new stash was cold. I hate warm beer. I offered Kawalsky scotch, but he turned me down, reminding me we had a mission in the morning. I stared at the bottle in my hand. I’d become too used to a drink at night. Living alone with regrets does that to a man.

I shrugged and put the bottle away, wondering how well I’d sleep without it.

“Did you ever see that movie?” Kawalsky asked me.

“Which one?” I was slouched in a leather easy chair near the fireplace, playing restlessly with an empty bottle of beer.

Kawalsky was lying on my couch, his legs stretched out. “Can’t remember the name,” he told me. “Jack Nicholson and Demi Moore. About the Marines.”

“Yeah, I saw it.” I shrugged.

I was expecting some wisecrack about Demi Moore’s ass, or how good she looked in a uniform. Either would have been typical of Kawalsky. But instead, he turned to me with the wicked grin I remembered so well, and, doing a terrible imitation of Nicholson, he said, “If you’ve never had a blowjob from a superior officer, well, you’re just letting the best in life pass you by.”

I think my heart skipped a beat. Kawalsky hadn’t asked me why I had left him so abruptly, ten years ago. I didn’t know what the silence meant: whether he thought he knew, or didn’t want to know. I was sure nothing would happen between us unless we talked about that first.

Now here he was, flirting with me again. Unmistakably offering me...everything.

I felt the smile on my lips, a burden I hadn’t known I was carrying lifted by his words. Joking, I said, “What are you accusing me of, Kawalsky? I never met Hammond before today.”

“Jack...” he began, laughing as he stood up.

I met him halfway. I reached for him as he got to his feet: the first time we had touched since the handshake we shared in that holding cell. My hand rested just above his waist. His skin, beneath the thin material of his T-shirt, felt hot. I moved that hand around to his back, pulling him closer to me. His hand snaked behind my head and we were kissing, at last.

God, I had missed him. Everything about him: his wicked sense of humour, his taste, his aggressive passion, his hard body against mine. He was in control of that kiss, not me. I was held, crushed against him, his arms around me, his mouth on mine rough and demanding, This was what I’d loved about him. But ten years apart is a long time, and I fought him at first.

He pulled back. “You okay with this?”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. But let’s move into the bedroom, shall we?” It was easy to slip back into old roles. I was as willing to be taken by him as I’d always been.

But as we reached the bedroom, Kawalsky stopped me. “Jack, how far do you want to go with this?”

I was surprised. It was the first time he’d shown that he wasn’t entirely confident. Did he really think I would need an out? I ran a hand downward over his stomach, rubbing his erection through his pants. “All the way, Charlie. We both need it.” I started to unzip his pants, putting an end to the debate.

We undressed each other and wrestled our way to the bed. Kawalsky was stronger than me: I guess a year of retirement had softened me. He held me down without much effort.

His teeth worried at my shoulder, leaving a bruise, and I swore. “Be careful - I’m gonna have to pass medical in the morning!”

He laughed, pinning me down on the bed, straddling my body. “Tell ’em a puppy did it. You’re _mine_, O’Neill. I get to mark you if I like.” He traced the mark with his thumb. Then he slowly brought the thumb to his mouth and tasted.

I heard myself sigh, taking in the sight.

“Mine,” he said again.

“Oh, yeah,” I agreed. I was his. Part of me has always been his.

“Now, _Colonel_, about that blowjob...”

***

I hate those snakehead Goa’ulds!

Once, I had something worth fighting for. A home, a wife, a family. Those things are gone, and I know I’ll never get them back. That’s okay. I don’t need them any more. Now I have something else.

Something worth _fighting_. Period.

I’m going to kick those goddamned snakes out of the galaxy, or I’m going to die trying. (If I’m honest, probably the last of those.)

What’s really eating me up, is I _wanted_ to find an enemy on that first mission. Talk about being careful what you wish for! Oh, I’m not saying I think I made it happen. But, oh, boy, did we find an enemy. Sure, we kicked Ra’s ass for him. It was dumb luck. We had no idea what we were dealing with.

We had a better idea the next time, when we returned to Abydos. Yeah, Hammond authorised the mission. We went through the Gate with very specific orders: bring Daniel Jackson home.

On Abydos for the second - and probably the last - time, we were the ones who got our asses kicked. Or base camp was attacked while Daniel led us on recon. And I _still_ didn’t get it. I told myself, sometimes you’re gonna lose a battle. It happens. One little defeat doesn’t mean the invincible Jack O’Neill is out of his depth.

We just went ahead and chased them! Okay, I know: we had more than enough reason. We needed intel. We knew they had come to Earth, once. We knew they might try again. They’d taken Daniel’s wife, so _he_ wasn’t about to back out of the mission. They took Skaara. That was more than enough reason for me.

So I led another mission into disaster.

I wish I had some idea what happened to Daniel. I tried to stop him. I _tried_. He was just too fast for me, running forward the second he saw Sha’re there. But he just let them take him. Skaara, when they chose him, fought every step of the way. Daniel just followed. I don’t get it.

It doesn’t matter. Daniel _maybe_ went with them willingly, but either way he’s now either a prisoner, or dead. So is Skaara. If they’re alive, I’ll find them. Someday.

We almost didn’t make it back that day. I’d recommended Kawalsky for command of SG2. Let’s be honest here: I didn’t choose Kawalsky because he hustled for it: he didn’t. But it wasn’t entirely because he was the best man for the job, either. It was because I didn’t want him under my command. After the number of men we lost on Abydos, I didn’t want to risk Kawalsky’s life, too. I couldn’t take him off the mission, so putting him on the other team seemed like the safest plan.

The decision might have been selfishly motivated, but it saved all our lives.

When we missed the deadline for returning to Earth, I prayed Kawalsky had followed orders and gone back. I wasn’t certain: I knew, if our positions had been reversed, I wouldn’t have left Chulak without him.

He figured out hours ahead of the deadline that we weren’t going to make it. He took one hell of a chance going home early the way he did, but he bought the extra time we needed to escape. There’s no way we’d have made it back without him.

I’m not sure how we _did_ make it. The Goa’uld vanished with the prisoners they’d chosen. I still didn’t know what “children of the gods” was supposed to mean. Or maybe I just didn’t want to know: I’d seen what happened to Sha’re. The Goa’uld in charge - Daniel had called him Apophis - ordered the serpent guards to kill everyone left behind. People around me started screaming. I signalled to Carter, telling her to stay close. The leader of the serpent guards, the one who had taken Daniel from us, swung to face me, holding the staff weapon, primed to fire.

Next thing I remember is waking up under half a ton of rubble. I hurt all over. I managed to roll the worst of the rocks off me. I hadn’t a clue what had happened. There was a nasty burn across my chest: that’s where most of the pain was coming from. There was nothing I could do about it immediately, so I did my best to ignore the pain. I looked around. The dungeon was a mess. It looked as if a couple of the supports had collapsed, bringing the roof down on us. There were bodies all around, beneath the rubble. Most of them were dead.

I hated that, but there was nothing I could do. I picked myself up and started looking for survivors.

A couple of hours later, I had Carter, and half a dozen others. One of the survivors was a kid: a girl no more than six years old. She spoke a language none of us understood, and she was pretty hysterical. No child should have to see the things that had happened to her that day. Communication was Daniel’s territory, not mine. Daniel was gone. I did my best with her: she trusted me enough to let me carry her when we escaped.

 I knew we’d missed the deadline, so we couldn’t risk returning to Earth. The only thing I could think of to do was head for the Stargate. I had absolutely no idea what to do when we got there.  Again, I wished for Daniel’s help: he was the only person I knew who might have known enough about the Stargate to help us. Carter...she knew how it worked, but not where we could go.

It was dark as we left the town. The cover of darkness helped. We got nearly all the way to the Stargate before we became aware of pursuit.

We were unarmed. I was near exhaustion, leading a ragtag group of walking wounded, barely able to communicate with each other, leave alone organise any real resistance. Our goal had been the Stargate, but if we reached it under fire we had no chance. It was a wide-open space. I led the group into the cover of the trees.

“Carter - scout ahead. See if the claymores we set up are still there.”

She looked up at me and for a moment I thought she was going to argue. I wouldn’t have blamed her. She was pale and bleeding from a cut above her eye: probably suffering from a concussion. She just met my eyes briefly and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She was gone.

We waited. It gave me a chance to rest. I badly needed it. I tried to put the girl I carried down but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. That was going to be a problem if I had to fight.

I was beginning to believe carter wasn’t coming back when I finally heard her returning. It’s a few years since I was in the field on a covert operation, but some instincts you just don’t lose: something I heard, as she came close put me on alert. She wasn’t alone.

I let go of the little girl’s hand, signalling firmly that she should stay put. I moved forward carefully. Then I heard, “Colonel!” It wasn’t Carter’s voice.

I relaxed. “Oh, for crying out loud! Kawalsky?” I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. I _was_ incredibly happy to hear his voice.

He gave his usual wise-ass grin. “What took you so long, Colonel?”

“Report, _Major._”

He became serious instantly. “I followed your orders, sir. We returned to Earth before the deadline. The general authorised our return, but we don’t have a lot of time left. And the Stargate is being guarded by the enemy.”

“How many hostiles at the Gate?”

“Four, that we’ve seen.”

There were more behind us, I knew. Kawalsky and I conferred quickly and came up with a plan. We always did make a good team.

The rest is pretty much a blur. Give me a break - I wasn’t exactly at my best. Kawalsky’s team had weapons to spare. The only plan we could think of was to go in shooting, so that’s what we did. When he realised I was hurt, Kawalsky insisted on leading the charge himself: so I was covering Carter at the DHD.

We got the Gate open and sent the signal that would identify us. I sent Carter through first. Someone had to warn them to receive refugees. I waited at the Gate while everyone else went through. Kawalsky was last. Well, almost last. The little girl I’d been looking after was hit in the brief firefight. Kawalsky went back for her. She was curled up on the ground, using the body of a dead serpent guard as cover. Smart kid. She didn’t want to go with Kawalsky. He had to drag her up and carry her to the Gate.

“Just another day at the office, Jack,” he grinned at me. We stepped through the Stargate together.

***

I can’t believe I didn’t see it. There should have been _some_ sign. How can a man have a snake in his head for two days and nobody notice? How could I share a bed with him, without knowing? How could I have made love with him and woken up beside him, and not see _something_?

There wasn’t anything, and that creeps me out.

Sure, Kawalsky was a little off his game. We all were, after we returned from Chulak. We had lost Daniel to the Goa’uld. We lost two other men in the firefight at the Gate, and the child we rescued died a few hours later. I’d never even learned her name.

We were all suffering from a reaction. Kawalsky and I got drunk together after the doctor patched me up. We talked about the friends we’d lost. Losing Daniel the way we did...it wasn’t just losing a friend. It was not knowing that was killing me.

One thing I never do, if I have any other choice at all, is leave a man behind.

Kawalsky understood what I was feeling. We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t need to.

At the SGC, things got back to normal routine quickly. Despite my recommendation, Hammond didn’t consider the mission to Chulak disastrous enough to shut the program down. I guess I argued too well in its favour before the mission. We’d brought back some valuable information about the enemy, and the losses were...acceptable. Just not to me.

I remember Kawalsky complaining of headaches. The first morning, it was hardly surprising: we were both hung over. I recovered by lunchtime. He didn’t. I was a little worried, but I certainly didn’t connect it with the mission.

The following day, when Kawalsky was still in pain, I sent him to the infirmary. I walked down there with him, but I had a lot on my mind that day and I just left him there with the doctor. I spent two hours arguing with Hammond about the sort of precautions we should take before stepping through that Gate again. It was a relief to meet Kawalsky for lunch. He told me he was feeling better.

Just before we both left the base that day, someone found the doctor’s body.

The hardest thing was knowing the killer had to be someone on the base. It’s a secure facility: no one enters or leaves without us knowing it. If it was someone assigned here, the murder couldn’t be random. Murder it certainly was. One look at the body told me that: the man’s skull was crushed, the weapon still embedded in bone. We sealed off the base and set up a search in case someone unauthorised _was_ inside, but I knew that was a long shot.

After we talked to the infirmary staff, I learned that Kawalsky had been the last person to see the doctor. It didn’t occur to me to suspect him, but doing it by the book, we reported the fact. Hammond asked us both to report to him.

On our way to the General’s office, it finally dawned on me that something was really wrong with him. Kawalsky was rubbing at his temples again, and I stopped him walking. “Kawalsky, you’re looking rough. I thought the doc gave you a painkiller.”

He shrugged. “Nothing helps for long. I’m fine, Colonel.”

This time, I didn’t believe him. “You can’t still be hung over, Kawalsky. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just a headache,” he insisted defensively.

“Not this time, Major. We’ll report to the General, and then you’ll report to bed. That’s an order.”

He offered a deliberately sloppy salute. “Yessir!” More quietly, he added, “Planning to join me, sir?”

“Only long enough to shove a painkiller down your throat. And _no_ wisecracks, Kawalsky. I’m worried about you, man.”

I saw him blink and shake his head. He said, “Jack?”

I caught him as he fell.

Back at the infirmary, I discovered Doctor Warner had arrived. I’d half-carried Kawalsky there, and I was glad to let the doctor take over. I called the General from the infirmary to let him know why we’d failed to report as ordered. He told me to stay where I was.

Warner finished examining Kawalsky and came over to me. He gave me the third degree about Kawalsky’s recent behaviour. I can’t say I appreciated the detailed questioning. I guess I was a little paranoid: the relationship between Kawalsky and myself wasn’t exactly something I wanted to make public.

I don’t know what it was, but something I said had Warner worried. He wanted to do an MRI right away, while Kawalsky was unconscious. Now _that_ worried me. I’m no medic, but I know an MRI is supposed to check for brain damage or something. I didn’t have any say in this. All I could do was hang around the infirmary, waiting.

Warner’s tests revealed the truth. There was a Goa’uld in him.

I’d never seen one before. All I saw then was the computer image of it. I suppose in theory it could have been anything. We just assumed it was a Goa’uld. Correctly, as it turned out.

I’m never going to forget Kawalsky’s fear when I told him he had one of those things in his head. It takes a lot to shake him. He’s one of the bravest men I’ve ever known, but that news scared him to death. Telling him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

Kawalsky asked for help, but we had none to give. Warner was obviously way out of his depth. He was willing to try to operate, but he was convinced the operation would kill the patient.

There was no way I would accept that. I remembered Carter had transferred in from Washington and I checked with her first. That woman is _good_: she came up with the best neurosurgeon in the States, and he already had a high level security clearance. Hammond had him flown in within twenty four hours.

There were risks, but Kawalsky wanted to take them. I would, too, in his position. We’d had to keep him in restraints since we discovered that thing inside him. He didn’t have much of a future if we couldn’t remove the snake. He knew that. I knew it. That didn’t make it any easier for either of us.

The night before they operated, I stayed with him the whole night. I’d been spending as much free time with him as I could all along, but that night I didn’t even consider sleeping.

_Our last conversation_, Kawalsky said, and I know him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t have said that if he’d had hope. I tried real hard that night to lighten him up, but he wouldn’t have it. There were so many things I wanted to say, and couldn’t. Not in that place.

Toward dawn, Kawalsky made me swear that we’d kill the Goa’uld in him, even if it meant killing him, too. I didn’t see how that would be in my power: choices like that were going to be down to the surgeons. But I gave him my word, even though I couldn’t imagine giving that order.

Right before they started surgery, Kawalsky said the same thing to General Hammond. I was so relieved when Hammond agreed - I guess I thought I was off the hook.

Sweet, huh?

Gotta love the irony there.

I was supposed to be reviewing MALP data for future missions. I gave it a miss. No power on Earth was going to move me from the observation deck above the OR while my lover was under the knife. It was a very, very long four hours.

I watched every single moment of the surgery, feeling alternately hopeful, scared and more than a little ill. I didn’t want to lose him. Not again. Not so soon. I can’t describe my relief when Warner announced the operation had been a success. How was I supposed to know he was wrong? I’m no doctor - I trusted Warner to know what he was talking about.

Kawalsky, when he finally woke, seemed fine. In fact, he seemed great. I went to see him as soon as I could. Almost the first thing he asked me was how soon he could return to duty. That was so much like the Kawalsky I served with in Special Ops.

Before the surgery, Warner warned us the odds were stacked against Kawalsky living through it. Even the neurosurgeon thought there was a high chance he could end up quadriplegic. The snake was attached to his spinal column and they were going to have to cut real close. I’d tried not to think about what that might mean to _us_. All things considered, Kawalsky looked good. Just to have him alive would have looked great to me.

Within two days he was out of the infirmary, with the doctors joking about finding his secret so they could bottle it. Had it been my decision, I would have let him return to duty right away. We needed the commander of SG2 back on the clock, and Kawalsky felt ready.

Hammond, though, is very regulation about some things. He insisted Kawalsky would take a few weeks to recover, at least.

I guess that’s why it all hit the fan in the way it did.

***

I’ve taken lives before. It comes with the job. This was different.

When I heard the alarms, I didn’t know what was going on at first. I headed for the control room automatically. I wasn’t the first on the scene, but I was the first ranking officer. No one seemed to know what was happening. The security doors to the control room were sealed.

My security code overrode the doors. The first thing I saw was that the Stargate was active, the iris open. I headed into the embarkation room, not even stopping for a weapon. In the light of the Stargate I could see someone running up the ramp. I called after him. He didn’t even turn around. I dived after him.

I grabbed his shirt a split second before he reached the Gate. He turned to face me and I knew him.

“Kawalsky! What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“Let me go!” I don’t know which was scarier: the Goa’uld glow in his eyes or the anger and hate in his expression. I knew I couldn’t let him reach the Stargate.

His right hook took me by surprise. I staggered but I didn’t let go of him. Somehow I managed to get between him and the Gate. I shoved him away from me, down the ramp. I followed, returning the punch. I damn-near broke my fist on his jaw and he didn’t even feel it.

Kawalsky pulled a gun on me. “Get out of my way!”

I hadn’t even noticed he was armed. In a move I’d learned years before, I threw myself toward him, grabbing for his throat with one hand and the gun with the other. It left me off balance, but I had the gun in my hand.

That’s the moment when I knew for sure I wasn’t with Charlie. Kawalsky and I used to practice that move together: there’s no way he would have been fooled by it. He hit me again and I managed to block him. Those sirens were still blaring and I yelled over the din, “Someone shut that damned Gate down!”

He was strong. I knew Kawalsky was stronger than I, but a few days after major surgery we should have been more even. He was stronger than I’d ever felt.

I would have lost.

The Gate finally shut down, and that distracted him for a second. He shouted something I didn’t understand, and I lashed out as hard as I could, slamming the butt of the gun I held into his face. That, finally, did it: he went down.

I held him down, straddling his body. Almost exactly the reverse of the positions we’d been in a week earlier, naked in my bed. I got a proper grip on the gun and forced it under his chin. Even this snake had to know I could kill him.

Everything changed.

He stopped struggling against me suddenly. I knew the room was filling with people. I heard someone shout “Hold your fire!” I had no idea if it was directed at me, but I didn’t react. I was completely focussed on Kawalsky.

Kawalsky looked up at me. _Charlie_, not the snake in his head. His breath was coming in gasps, like he was in pain.

Afraid this was some sort of trick, I double-checked that the safety was off on the gun I held. He wasn’t going to fool me.

Kawalsky whispered, “Jack...you promised.”

I stopped breathing.

I looked down into his eyes.

I said, “I love you, Charlie.”

I pulled the trigger.

 ***

I can feel the faint vibration through the floor as they start to power up the Gate. I’m still looking at Ferretti. He glances at me again and nods grimly, an acknowledgement. We both know this mission’s going to be a tough one.

I look around at the other faces in the room. Men I could be leading to death in a few moments. Oh, yeah, and one woman. Carter surprised me: for a scientist she’s one hell of a soldier. I still feel Daniel’s absence, but I can’t think about that now. Kawalsky isn’t absent: he’s a ghost in this room, always here.

The embarkation room fills with light as the Stargate opens. I check my weapons one last time. “All right, people,” I announce. “Let’s move out.”

As I reach the Stargate, I take a breath and let it out slowly. This is the part I hate. The part I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.

It’s surprising how easy I find it to make my heart go cold. This planet we’re going to is one of Apophis’ strongholds. There’s a chance we’ll find Daniel or Skaara there. But before we can do that, we’re going to have to fight our way in. The exploring is over and I feel good about that.

It’s time we struck a blow in this war.

We know there’s a good chance some of us aren’t coming back. If I’m one of them, that’s okay. I’m not young any more, and I’ve taken too many knocks to believe in immortality.

I just want to send a few snakeheads into hell before I join them there.

For Charlie.


End file.
